Timeless, Not A Trend
by the-fraulein
Summary: An angsty Roger oneshot. Cheery and lovely for all holiday purposes. Ha. It certainly won't warm any hearts. But that's not what I'm here for. COMPLETED.


_Timeless, Not A Trend_

Notes: I'm a bastard, but I love to make Roger suffer, and I love angsty bitch Roger more than I love most people.

I've been writing on for a year and a few days! Seasons Greetings RENTheads and such!

* * *

I closed my eyes. April had been a fond friend from childhood. We'd grown up together on the same block, with parents that were friends. A cheery existence overall. Condemning both of us to live with the eternal backlash of a content childhood.

The drummer in my band, one of my other best friends had been snorting heroin for years. I hadn't even thought about drugs until we'd come to the city. It was sick little Disneyland of addiction, infatuation and obsession. With plenty of sex mixed in.

April stayed out of most of it. She'd roll at her eyes at my idiocy and push me away when I came on to her when I was drunk, but she'd always forgive me in the morning. She was like that. But she had her own life. And though we lived together, her clean and promising living didn't even mesh with my self-destructive fling with rock and roll.

I met Mark through chance and I've hated him for longer than I've liked him. I thought he was pretentious, the kind of person I was rebelling against. He was friends with friends of mine and was always around at after gig parties and mutual gatherings. He just pissed me off. He actually had a lot of the same ideas I did, but a more collected and logical way of expressing them. He had no use for apathy, and I think I relied on it too much.

I was a wasted wreck around the time April's boyfriend broke up with her, leaving her for a mutual friend of the two. I didn't even find her particularly attractive, simply because she wasn't the type of girl I was used to spending the night with, but honestly, men don't need something to be beautiful to sleep with it. It's safe to say I took advantage of her vulnerability. For that I'm ashamed.

Somehow though, April forgave me, though she never really blamed me. We even had a somewhat casual relationship. Casual on my end, anyway. By that time I was fully entrenched in drugs and had started shooting heroin. It made her cry every time I showed up late coming home or blew her off or ignored her completely. I was too far gone to realize what I was doing, but I take full blame for it.

What I've gone through isn't glamourous. It isn't beautiful in any way and it should never be idolized. I hate myself for what I ultimately drove her to do through irresponsible actions of my own.

Too beautiful for suicide was my mantra. I was too much an icon of my generation and too much a public symbol of what it meant to be cool to take purposeful actions to end my life or to have my decisions effect me in the long term. April reversed it on me, to say that I was pretty enough to die young. I was just young and stupid enough to have my actions backfire and end up killing me as a martyr for youthful idiocy.

Either way, really. It's all empty, any way you look at it.

When April died I had a death sentence and an emptiness that continues today. I'll never regain the innocence that I had brought to my scene in the early nineties. I have to live every day of my doomed life knowing that I fucked up hers.

Fuck 'to redeem this empty life'. There's no way to do it.

I stopped hating Mark the day he made it known that he didn't hate me. I was knocking back shots I couldn't afford to pay for in a bar and by chance encountered him. He wondered why I hadn't been to any parties recently and if I knew that the band had been calling nonstop. I had to tell him I hadn't been home in weeks. He told me he missed my unabashed and unjustified hatred that vibrated through the room whenever we were in the same building. He grinned cheekily as he said it and I had laughed. He took me back to the loft he shared with a multitude of characters and told me to stay as long as I wanted.

I stayed long after Maureen had left him and Benny had joined the ranks of the rich and over-privileged, and Collins had gone back to teaching. I told him about April. I wallowed in self-pity, but also forgot about heroin. When I remembered it he forced me off of it. More out of loneliness than anything, I think, but it paid off in the end for both of us.

Considering I was the most selfish and most responsible for my own condition than any of my infected friends, even sweet little Mimi that I loved with any uninhibited fiber I could gather, I found it laughable and even degrading that I was the last one left. I told Mark I felt guilty, but he couldn't offer any real sort of support other than to tell me off for being stupid again. True, certainly, but unneeded.

I've launched myself back into depression. I'm stuck here now wallowing in doubt and shame. I've caught myself starting to enjoy it. It's tempting, I'll admit. People make a killing out of commercializing their distress. I could certainly do the same if I really applied myself. It would be disdainful, arrogant, immoral and slightly damaging to the general public. Me in a collection of slightly related words.

But I've chose not to. I've chosen to fade quietly, taking my fucking medicine both literally and figuratively, and passing into oblivion. I don't fret about death any longer, but I'm not exactly cheery about it. I think Mark worries about me, but then again, people worrying about me has never bothered me before, and I'm not going to allow it to start now.

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Notes Continued: If this depresses you I'm terribly sorry. I'll be updating my other junk shortly! Promise, promise. ;) See you all again soon! Merry Chrismahannakwanzika, Atheist Children Get Presents Day, and everything else.


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